


Secrets Untold

by capmarvel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Autistic Peter Parker, Journalism, Kid Peter Parker, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Superfamily, Tony Stark Has Issues, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-10-30 16:18:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17831939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capmarvel/pseuds/capmarvel
Summary: Steve's a struggling journalist who's just been presented with an opportunity that could turn his whole life around. All he has to do is find out why Tony Stark has suddenly closed down his company's weapon manufacturing and relocated to New York. What he doesn't expect is that Tony may or may not have a son who he's been hiding from the world, oh and that he may or may not be falling for the man.UPDATE: Will not be updating this for a little while, in order to get some other works done. BUT I will come back to it at some point.





	Secrets Untold

“Late again, Mr Rogers?”

Steve cringed at the tone in his boss’s voice as he weaved his way through the crowded room towards his desk. He bumped into several chairs and tables on his journey, almost causing a middle-aged man to spill his coffee over his mess of a workspace. Steve gave the man a sheepish grin as he apologised profusely but didn’t slow down. Yes, he was late, but only be two minutes and really, that shouldn’t be considered late at all. It wasn’t his fault anyway, the subway had been so crowded that morning, that it had taken four trains until he’d finally been able to squeeze into a carriage. That was the real injustice this morning. 

“Sorry Boss, won’t happen again.”

His boss only grunted from his position outside of his office. Both of them knew that this definitely would happen again, but Steve liked to think that his work here was valued enough that being late every now and then wouldn’t jeopardise his position. The look his boss was giving him indicated that that was simply wishful thinking, and any journalist for a B grade newspaper was entirely replaceable. 

“I need you in my office at 11.”

Steve gulped at the announcement. “Right. 11. Your office.”

“Will that be a problem?” His boss’s eyebrows were raised half questioning, half threatening.

“Uh…problem? Nope, not on my side at least.” 

“Good. I’ll be expecting you then.”

Steve turned away from his boss’s prying eyes, only to realise that almost every other worker in the room was blatantly staring at him. The guy two desks over sniggered at him, but most others seemed to have the decency not to take joy in his discomfort. Yeah, getting abruptly called into the boss’s office for anything remotely _good_ wasn’t exactly a common occurrence, and he knew half of them were probably expecting him to come back from the meeting without a job. Steve tried to ignore the sheen of sweat that was starting to coat his palms, making him even more uncomfortable than he already was. He had the same fear but tried to quell it by telling himself that if the man wanted him fired, he was unlikely to let a crowded room stop him and would have done it on the spot. Maybe. 

He shook off the stares, and instead turned to his computer to continue with the article he had spent the week writing. He’d been stuck on Saturday columns for the whole 4 months that he’d been here. That wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing, except that it involved what had to be the lowest pay rate in the office. He was struggling enough trying to make it by in New York as it was, and really didn’t want to have to pick up a second job (or a new first job if his meeting ended badly). On top of that, what was usually at least a 2000-word article would get shortened to less than 500 and stuck on whichever page it would fit. He was hoping that he’d be able to pull off an amazing article soon, and in turn, get more articles assigned to him. The investigative team ended up with the best pay of the office, despite their low rates, due to the interest that they tended to amass. These articles ended up being the headlines, not the crappy little column on page 12. 

He’d yet to specialise in a particular category of writing, mainly due to his inability to write on topics that actually interested him. This week he’d been assigned to write about the institution of new meal plans at a selection of schools in Queens and how it had (or hadn’t) improved the academic performance of students. His initial draft had pointed out that the meal plans had only been granted to schools in high socio-economic areas that already had access to healthy, good quality food and therefore they would have little effect on academic performance. He’d tried to imply that the meal plans had to go to more disadvantaged schools, and then more than simply academic performance would have to be measured (preferably mental health would be a focus). Of course, his superior had felt that he had lost objectivity in his article and that he was close to stepping on the toes of the investigative team. He’d had to rewrite the entire piece and remove anything that made it remotely compelling. Now he was stuck with a half-finished load of garbage that he didn’t particularly want his name attached to. 

Sighing in frustration as the computer whirred its way through a painfully slow start-up procedure. He instinctively reached his hand out, grabbing for a cup of coffee that he was confused to find wasn’t there. Right, he’d not had time to get one after the whole subway situation this morning. He knew there would be no way that he’d make it through the next two hours without one though. Sighing again, Steve grabbed his coat and stood up from his desk. He made a conscious effort not to acknowledge the stares that he had attracted once again, instead, heading out of the office and towards the ground floor café.

* * *

“Well, look what we have here. When was the last time you slummed it down here with the rest of us?”

Steve turned around to see Sam making his way over to him. He’d befriended Sam when he’d first started out at his job, with the man working a few floors below him in a small Veterans Affairs clinic. They’d met at this very café, but Steve was quick to realise that he’d rather pay the extra two dollars to have coffee at almost any other place rather than drinking the poor excuse of a beverage that they served here. The two had quickly bonded over their past military experience, something Steve wasn’t particularly fond of remembering, and soon started meeting up outside of work as well. He’s one of the few people Steve didn’t hesitate to actually call a friend. 

“Yeah yeah, not my fault you’re willing to suffer through what has got to be the worst coffee in the whole of New York…” Steve trailed off as he noticed the glare that the barista had directed his way. Oh well, not his fault the guy had no idea how to brew a decent coffee. “Anyway, I’m only here because the subway was so busy when I left this morning. It took me four trains until I was able to even stand in one of the stupid things. Who would have thought that sleeping in 10 minutes was going to cause such a mess for me?”

Sam just chuckled and shook his head. “You know you can always hitch a ride with me in the morning, right?”

“Yeah, except you’re nowhere near where I am, and you’d have to go in the opposite direction to pick me up. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll keep, how’d you put it, slumming it on the subway.”

“Touché man, touché. You seem tense though, everything alright?”

“You know, just an impromptu meeting with the boss coming up, that may or may not end up with me being fired and having to find a whole new job, again.”

“Hey, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Besides, it’s Friday, so you’ll have the weekend to cool off before you have to come back here. We still on for the game tonight?”

Steve smiled at his friend’s attempt to redirect his focus. He spied the barista placing his drink on the pick-up counter with a little bit more force than was probably necessary. “Yeah, I’ll catch you later.”

* * *

The only sound coming from the room was the incessant ticking of the large grandfather clock in the corner. It seemed to blend in with the rest of the out-of-date furniture that had been crammed into the small office. Being the head of the newspaper, Steve had probably expected something a little more extravagant than a cosy corner office, but then again, it was a 22nd-floor room, with a magnificent view over the city. His boss just seemed to have given up the luxury of space in exchange. 

Speaking of the man, Steve’s attention was drawn to the figure who was leaning back in his chair, with his arms crossed over his chest. His expression never changed from the unamused frown that was probably the reason for the deepening lines in his forehead. The man couldn’t have been that old, but his already receding hairline and lined face were attempting to convince him otherwise. 

Steve began to grow uncomfortable under the other man’s gaze. It was already 11:12 and the man had yet to say a word. Instead, he almost seemed to take pleasure in the growing uneasiness of the man in front of him. Steve just fiddled with a loose thread on his trousers, hoping that this meeting wasn’t going to end in his firing. 

“Well, Mr Rogers…”

His eyes snapped to his boss, who had suddenly leant forward and was resting his elbows on the mahogany desk. 

“Uh yes…Sir.”

“I read your draft for this week’s article on the new meal plans-”

“-Uh yes, I know it was way out of my job description to be writing like that. I promise that it’s being rewritten, and it’s almost done. I know the deadline is in like 2 hours, but really, I’m just putting the finishing touches on it.”

His boss didn’t seem amused at being interrupted like that. “Hmmm…well that’s a shame really.” Steve’s eyebrows shot up at that. The man ruffled through some of the papers on his desk, before pulling one from a large pile. “I quite liked this piece as it was. You did your research, beyond the simple scope of the brief and produced something actually worth reading. A lot of effort for a one-off article buried in a Saturday paper.”

Steve didn’t quite know if he was hearing the man correctly, since he’d been practically forced to change everything about what he’d written. “I…well…”

“You write a lot more eloquently then you speak, that’s for sure.” Steve let out a forced laugh. “Look, I’m in need of an unknown face to do an investigative piece for me. And I’m not just talking a week-long project here either. This thing’s gonna take time and dedication and judging by the work you submitted earlier this week, I thought you might be the guy for it, if you are interested of course.”

Steve’s mouth had dropped open by the time his boss had finished. “Uh…Um yes, I’m definitely interested in that.” Fewer office hours, an opportunity to make a name for himself, Steve was willing to take this job even if it had the same pay as his current one. 

“You don’t wanna hear what it entails first? This isn’t a simple cut and dry article to be written. We don’t really know where it’s going to lead. That’s why the research aspect is so important.” Steve was simply nodding along with everything he was hearing. “Look, you know who Tony Stark is, right?”

Yeah, Steve knew who the man was. He was a walking headline who couldn’t seem to keep it in his pants. “Billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, yeah I’ve heard of him. Not quite sure why we’d be writing about him though, since we’re not a gossip magazine. I mean, what does the guy even do, other than drink, party and sleep around?”

“ _Genius_ , billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. He’s the CEO of Stark Industries. It was his father’s company up until his death in ’91. Tony Stark only claimed the position a couple years back. The company was the top military contractor with one of the most innovative and advanced weapon production sectors out there. Now, the key word here is ‘was’. Yesterday, Stark announced that he was shutting down the weapons division immediately. This comes only two weeks after he announced he was shifting the headquarters of Stark Industries from Los Angeles to New York.” His boss paused to take a breath and stared expectantly at Steve.

“Okay…”

The man let out a sigh. “Stark hasn’t given any reason behind either of these moves. No one just shuts down the most profitable sector of their business without a reason.”

“Maybe he just realised that he didn’t want to make weapons anymore.”

“Yeah, except a decision like that has meant the worth of his company has nearly halved overnight, with no foreseeable recovery. This isn’t a decision he would’ve made on a whim. Since he’ll conveniently be moving out to New York next week, we want you to find out why. Why the sudden relocation? And why the sudden end to weapons manufacturing? These are the questions that the world is dying to have answered, and we need to be the ones to answer them.”

“Okay…but why me? I mean, given his reputation, surely someone a little more…female would be better for the job?”

“Stark has become increasingly suspicious of pretty young women who ask too many questions. We’re trying a different approach with you. Starting Monday, you’ll be going undercover as one of his security details. Given your history, I’m sure the physical aspect of this won’t be a problem.” Steve grimaced at the mention of his time in the army. “We’ve already sent off your forms and had them approved.”

“Wait. How’d you even know I was going to say yes?”

“I would have made a grave mistake hiring you if you were going to turn down the biggest opportunity of your career. Take the rest of the day off. We’ll publish what you wrote here, not whatever you’ve tried to replace it with.”

* * *

Steve and Sam were spread out on the sofa, which was probably quite an accomplishment since it was a fairly small one and they were both quite big guys, watching the baseball game in front of them. The Mets were winning, so at this point, Steve was feeling pretty happy. 

He’d just finished explaining to Sam what had gone down in his boss’s office, with the whole article proposal and whatnot. Even now, explaining what had happened, Steve found himself in a state of disbelief. 

“So, hang on, you’ve been asked to do a major piece, undercover, on Tony Stark’s new plans for his company. That sounds like a lot for someone who has never done more than a weekly piece that has to be approved by his superiors, and never gets anywhere near the headline pages. Are you sure you’re the right guy for this?”

Steve felt as if Sam was taking the words right out of his mind. He felt way in over his head, but there was no way that he could back out now. His boss had practically forced this on him, having already got him approved as a bodyguard for Stark before he’d even heard of the job. This felt like some crazy daydream that Steve had every time he got given another uninspiring topic to write his brief on. He’d been constantly wishing for an opportunity to write something bigger and better than his usual stuff, and here it was, right in front of him. So why was he feeling so uncertain about everything?

Ever since he’d been (honourably) discharged from the army, he’d been desperate for a decent job. As much as he loved his art, he knew that there was no way that he could support himself with that kind of career and decided to make something of his writing skills instead. He’d kept a journal throughout his tours, and what starting out simply as a way to pass time soon became his second-to-main (sketching still won) form of release. Those journals contained some of his darkest thoughts and would likely remain closed for the rest of time, but really helped him pull through. So yes, writing had been an integral part of Steve’s life in the army, and he was grateful that it was helping him now. And, whilst investigative journalism may not be the most morally-grounded job (especially when it involved going undercover and lying to people), Steve reasoned that the experience (and money) that he would earn from this piece would be invaluable. 

“Yeah, I mean I am just as surprised as you are, but they said they wanted someone unknown. Expectedly, Stark has been increasingly sceptical of new people who come into his life. Come Monday though, I’ll be Steven Montgomery, Tony Stark’s new security detail.”

“You’re sticking with ‘Steven?’”

“Yeah, well since it’s my first time, my boss thought it’d be best that we stick with it. Don’t want me getting too confused and losing face. Besides, it’s not that bad of a name.”

“I don’t know man, it’s just kind of uninspi-” Sam was cut off by the pillow that Steve threw at his face.


End file.
